


The Ill-fated Aquarium Trip

by StarkerplusStrange



Series: Lovely Peter [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Play, Doctors, Fluff, M/M, Medical, Medical Kink, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, thermometers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-11-28 22:10:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20973848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkerplusStrange/pseuds/StarkerplusStrange
Summary: A collection of age-play, fluff, whump, and medical prompts written by me. Featuring Starker/Strange





	The Ill-fated Aquarium Trip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [professional_benaddict](https://archiveofourown.org/users/professional_benaddict/gifts).

> The trio ventures out on a trip to the aquarium, but unfortunately for Peter he falls ill before that.
> 
> I am not a doctor or medical professional so please do not yell at me if things aren’t accurate. Feedback is appreciated!

Peter woke up excited for the upcoming events of the day. He and his daddies, Stephen and Tony, were planning to go to the aquarium today. After countless days of waiting they were finally going.

However, his only problem now was that he woke up feeling ill with a stuffy nose, sore throat, and a fever that was unbeknownst to him. He knew that if his daddies found out he was sick they’d cancel the trip. So his best bet was to hide his sickness to the best of his ability.

With that he slid out of his bed and padded across the room to the doorway, peeking his head out. He could hear voices coming from the kitchen so he knew that his daddies were awake, more than likely cooking breakfast.

He crept around the corner of the threshold and immediately saw Stephen, running towards him and immediately clinging to the man. “Hi.” He giggled.

Stephen turned and smiles, ruffling the boy's hair. “Hi, baby bear.” The caregiver lifted him up onto his hip, guiding him over towards the dining table. “Are you hungry?” He inquired, placing a kiss onto Peter’s forehead but immediately pulling away with a frown.

“Yes. We have ‘Ancakes.” Peter struggles with pronouncing some of his letters when in little space, hence why he couldn’t properly say ‘pancakes.’

“Not today, buddy. Maybe tomorrow we can have pancakes.” Stephen brings the boy into the kitchen area to grab him an ice-cold sippy cup with water. Peter does feel slightly warm to him, he’s hoping it’s not a fever as he wouldn’t want to deal with the tantrum that’d follow if their trip had to be canceled.

Tony soon comes through with breakfast: eggs, bacon, and toast for the caregivers while Peter settles with French toast bites and bacon. “Hi, darling.” He kisses the boy’s head and pulls away, much like Stephen did before and places his hand on the boy’s forehead, immediately feeling the warmth.

Whilst Peter’s distracted by eating his food, the two caregivers talk amongst themselves. “Does he feel warm to you too?” Tony inquires, taking a glance at Peter who’s happily playing with the built-in toys on his booster chair.

“Yeah,” Stephen sighs. “I’d hate to upset him by canceling the trip but it’s probably for the better.” Tony silently agrees. 

“Let’s take his temp first and go from there. Could just be overheated.” Although he highly doubts that’s the case.

Once their down with breakfast and clean up, they bring Peter upstairs to his bedroom. Stephen opens his dresser drawer and picks up the thermometer, going back over to Peter. Tony has already undone the zippers on the onesie revealing Peter’s bare chest.

It’ll be pretty much impossible for them to get a reading if they were to take it orally. Peter will either gag on the thermometer or won’t be able to sit long enough for them to take it, plus they don’t want to deal with a screaming Peter so early in the day. So, for now, their best bet is to take it under his arm. 

“It’s gonna be cold for a few seconds, baby,” Stephen announces, lifting the boy’s arm and inserting the thermometer. Instantly Peter begins to squirm around and only stops once Tony places a firm hand on his stomach.

The wait isn’t long but the result of the temperature isn’t a great one. “99.8.” Tony relays with a grimace. It’s pretty mild but could change at anything. “We could always just give him some medicine and still go. Hate to do this to him last minute.”

So that’s the plan they stick with to steer clear of a tantrum from Peter. It’s not the greatest choice they’ve made but it’ll keep Peter from crying. They make sure to pack a backpack for Peter with a thermometer and stethoscope, some toys, extra change of clothes, medicine, and a blanket.

They’re about a good half-hour drive into the trip when things go south as Peter suddenly vomits all over himself and begins to wail. Tony pulls off the freeway and into the parking lot of a supermarket, climbing out with Stephen. “Daddy!”

“Awe, buddy,” he smiles sympathetically. “You really didn’t feel good, huh?”

Peter shakes his head and whines a bit more. “We still going to the fishies?” Despite being so ill immediately, he nonetheless still asks about the trip.

Stephen chuckles to himself. Of course, that’s the one thing Peter remains focused on. “Sorry, darling. You’re too sick.”

“I’m not sick, daddies, promise!” Peter protests with a few coughs in between. Stephen unbuckles him and helps him to maneuver out of the seat, removing his clothes to change him into fresh ones. He grabs the sanitized thermometer and sticks it under Peter’s arm, shushing him before he can protest.

Once it’s registered, he removes it and sticks it back into its case then returns it to the bag. He wipes Peter up a bit then changes him into shorts and a t-shirt. He gets him situated back into the new car seat that Tony had changed when he was preoccupied with Peter. Because they want to prevent another incident, Stephen now sits in the back with Peter while Tony drives back to their house.

Less than ten minutes into the drive Peter falls asleep, leaving Stephen and Tony to converse about him. “He’s got a fever,” Stephen announces, nonchalantly. “101.5.”

Tony sighs. “Damn. It honestly sounds like the flu to me. We’ll have to get his temp down and I doubt he’ll be able to hold down any liquids either.”

Stephen hums in agreement, running his hand through Peter’s sweaty hair. “There are only two options really, and we both know he won’t like either one.”

“Neither of them seem like a better option.” Tony laughs.

They continue their chatting until they're pulling into the garage if their home. Stephen climbs out of the back as Tony grabs Peter, the little boy slumping onto his chest. He carries Peter to his bedroom and lays him on the bed, removing his shoes and socks, followed by the rest of his clothes. He can practically feel the heat coming off of him. “Steph!” He calls out. “Think we should take his temp again?”

Stephen, who’s sorting out Peter’s soiled clothing, comes into the bedroom. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’d like to do it a more accurate way though.”

Tony is one step ahead of Stephen and goes to wake up Peter so that can take his temperature without any sudden scares. He runs his fingers through his hair. “Hi, sweet boy, we need to check your temp again,” Peter whines and rolls over, his arms reached out towards Tony so he can be picked up.

In the corner of the room Stephen is prepping the thermometer, he puts a plastic cover onto it and a little lubrication. He already knows Peter is going to put up a fight but he wants it to be an accurate measure.

“Can you roll on your tummy for us, darling?” Tony asks, already helping Peter to roll over. He removes his shoes, socks, and shorts which leaves him in only a t-shirt and pull-up. Stephen comes over and with Tony’s help, he pulls down Peter’s pull-up and inserts the thermometer. “Shh, I’m sorry. It’s only a few minutes.” Stephen apologizes when Peter begins to whine and squirm around.

“Don’t like it!” He cries and clings onto Tony’s arm. The doctor in question shushes the young boy and places a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I know you don’t like it, but we need to make sure your little body isn’t too hot.”

The thermometer soon beeps and Stephen removes it, disposing of the plastic cover and cleaning the thermometer before returning it back to the dresser drawer. “It went up to 102.8. Think we should do I quick once over?”

Tony sighs, shifting Peter off of him after he had replaced the pull-up and stands up. “Yeah, that’s probably best.” He grabs the spare stethoscope that they leave in Peter’s room on a high shelf and slips it under the boy's shirt. Instantly Peter whines and tries to push it away, mumbling something about it being too cold.

It doesn’t faze Tony as he continues to listen to Peter’s chest and lungs, thankful to find that it sounds perfectly fine. They check his eyes, ears, nose, and throat, and feel his tummy but still aren’t able to find anything alarming. “Really just sounds like the flu to me. Poor baby.”

Stephen hums. “That’s what my initial thought was. Guess I’ll get an IV setup, doubt he’ll be able to hold anything down and that fever needs to be brought down. Plus some fluids should be good.”

He returns with a bag of fluids, the IV kit, and some fever reducers in a syringe. He pulls on a pair of gloves and ties a tourniquet just above Peter’s wrist, feeling for a vein. Once he finds a decent one, he wipes the spot with an alcohol wipe and readies the needle, taking a glance at Tony to make sure he’s ready to keep Peter calm. “Small pinch, Hunny bear.”

Peter whimpers a lot when the needle is inserted but nonetheless doesn’t move, too tired to do so. “Can we watch fishies, please?” He asks, referring to his latest obsession ‘Bubble Guppies.’ Stephen gets the cannula all set-up and taped down, before injecting the fever reducers and booking up the bag of IV fluids.

Tony smiles. “We sure can.” He places a lightweight blanket on top of Peter, laying down next to him and switching the tv on.

Soon enough Peter falls asleep after three episodes, leaving Stephen to chuckle at the sight of Peter’s fingers clutching onto Tony. He wouldn’t ask for anything else.


End file.
